


Stay

by Severina



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When her hand finds his in the dark, it feels as natural as breathing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the weekly challenge prompt at LJ's gameofcards. Prompt: "stay". Post Season Four.
> 
> * * *

He'd tried to keep his distance, after he saw Beth sprinting through the field and Maggie's legs give out in shock and relief. In the midst of all the hugs and tears, the introductions to new people on both sides of the fence, Beth smiled at him. And he told himself that that was enough. She was safe and alive and none the worse for wear, and that is all he needs.

He fades away to the periphery of the camp, checks in with Bob on watch duty on the south side before settling in to keep an eye on the perimeter. And though he taught her well he still hears her light tread on the fallen leaves when she comes up behind him. 

"I knew you'd make it," Beth says.

Daryl winces as he turns, tries to hide it. Doesn't want her to know how many times he nearly gave up, or the kind of people he had to travel with just to get by. How hard it was just to put one foot in front of the other, and how it nearly all went wrong. He thinks she might know already; she was huddled with Michonne over the fire for a long time, heads bent together, talking and marveling over the sleeping baby. 

He doesn't want her to know how many times he feared she was dead, how easy it was for him to forget her lessons.

"I tried to find ya," is all he says. The memory of his escape from the funeral parlour is little more than a blur in his memory, unimportant. But he can still see the shape of her backpack on the road, the taillights of the car fading, the glint of the fractured moonlight on the rear window. He can still hear his breath heaving through his lungs and feel the pain twisting in his side with every stride. "I ran all night, but the road forked and..."

Her brow furrows, and he wants to reach up and smooth the confusion away. So he tightens his grip on the strap of his bow and tells his traitorous hands to stay where they are.

He can still feel the shape of her body leaning against his; the warmth of her thigh and the brush of her hair against his neck. 

"Oh, Daryl," she finally breathes out.

It feels like absolution – for not keeping her safe, for letting her be taken, for his failure. He's not sure he can accept it, not yet. But for her, he'll try.

He juts a chin toward the small group sitting with Rick and the others, making small talk as they get to know each other. A slim dark man in a long coat, a frizzy-haired blonde, some ginger boy who can't be more than fifteen. "Guess I shouldn't've been worried," he says. 

Beth follows his gaze, lifts one slender shoulder before eyeing the rest of the group. When she turns back to him, her eyes are sparkling. "You believe a word that Eugene fella says?"

Daryl snorts. "Nah. Ain't nothin' left in DC but the roaches. Maybe a few of them politicians, but same difference."

Beth laughs. He hadn't realized how much he missed her laugh until he hears it again, bright and clean. Like there was still lots to laugh about, still joy and wonder in the world. He thought he remembered everything about her; spent nights lying on his back with his forearm covering his eyes, listening to Joe and the others bitch and plan and retracing in his minds eye the curve of her hip and the grit underneath her fingernails and the silly braid in her ponytail. But he'd forgotten the lightness of her laughter. He'd forgotten the impish look she got when she found something amusing, the sardonic little twist to her lips. 

"I found a spoon," she says suddenly. "Back before… well, before everything. A Washington commemorative spoon. Maybe it was a sign."

"A sign that we should go to DC?" Daryl says skeptically.

"Maybe not," Beth admits. "But it's not like we have anything better to do. There was a cotillion at the country club this weekend, but my tickets must have gotten lost in the mail."

He can do no more than sketch a smile, caught for the moment in an image of her in a white gossamer gown, floating through a sea of golden lanterns, laughing on a boy's arm. He blinks the image away, remakes her in a dirty yellow polo and a tangle of messy hair. His Beth. 

She's watching him, patiently waiting for a response. "You think we should go?"

Her gaze drifts back to the fire, to Abraham and Rosita talking animatedly with Tyreese and the blonde. "Are they..?"

"There's still good people, Beth," he says teasingly. 

She grins and nudges him with her shoulder. "Then we should go."

And just like that, his decision is made. He can't imagine what it'll be like travelling with a baby, staying one step ahead of the herds, finding shelter every night and enough food to eat. But they're a strong group. They'll make it.

"Well," Beth says, "I should—"

"Stay," he says before he can stop himself. 

She smiles then, bright in the dark. "Okay."

"You were right," he says softly, when they've done a circuit of the camp and are leaning against one of the trucks, their backs to the murmuring voices at the campfire. When she only looks at him inquiringly, her eyes wide and curious, he bites at his lip, fidgets against the cool metal. "I missed ya."

For a moment there is only the sound of the leaves rustling overhead, some crickets singing in the bushes. Then she smiles slowly. "Oh," she breathes.

When her hand finds his in the dark, it feels as natural as breathing. Something loosens in his chest when her fingers twine with his. She shuffles closer, rests her head on his shoulder. He squeezes her hand, and knows in that instant that he's never going to let her go.


End file.
